


Stealer's Wheel

by ugagradlady



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Past Child Abuse, Sad clowny men, Start Of Darkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ugagradlady/pseuds/ugagradlady
Summary: Blitzo finds a long-lost childhood toy that brings back memories of his troubled past. A story of bad times and even worse coping mechanisms.
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

Late at night in Hell, the lights were still on.

It’s a city that doesn’t sleep, for sure, but not just out of capitalism. Most of its inhabitants are afraid of what they’ll find in their sleep. Without any TV or music or Internet, it would be just you, alone in the dark. Just _you_ , with no companion but your own diseased mind, left to remember what a colossal fuckup you are. Is it any wonder they tend to be insomniacs?

Over in Imp City, at the top floor of an obnoxiously tall and overdecorated building, an imp could be seen looking out the window.

“Where in Lucifer’s name is that little turd?” he growled, glaring at the parking lot.

“I told you, he’s coming,” came a voice from behind him. “He said he would be late.”

“If Moxxie’s gonna nag me into this, then shouldn’t he _be here already?_ This is after business hours!“

The other imp, a woman, sighed. “He’s coming, okay? He’s not gonna leave us, Blitzo.”

“Millie, your husband has a _pathological need_ to keep everything clean. Look out there! The little prick even does our fences!” Blitzo was still unhappy that the “Thundering Horses” mural he’d painted on the fence had been whitewashed. “Guy’s probably off getting a Brazilian somewhere.”

Millie tossed her head and flashed her teeth like a frustrated animal. After a few seconds of angry muttering, she snapped back at her boss. “We’re working unpaid overtime to clean the office for _you!_ It’s all cluttered up!”

“Then you both should actually be doing some **fucking work!** See, _Loona’s_ helping! _She’s_ not having a bitchfit with me! Aren’t you, Loony?”

At the desk, a white hellhound sat at her usual space, talking on the company phone. “Yeah, I want a pizza with pepperoni, and a side order of breadsticks.”

Millie had long before learned that arguing with her boss _about_ Loona was even less productive than arguing _with_ Loona. “Yeah, she’s helping. Gimme that box over there.”

Blitzo paused. “Uh… _that_ box?”

“3320 Gehenna Way, suite 666.” said Loona. “District 6, Imp City.”

“No, _that_ box.”

“Yeah, I can’t let you handle that one Millie. It’s full of _confidential_ stuff. Stuff that could give you diseases totally unknown to medical science.”

“And if you’re late **this** time, I will **bite your balls off and put them on the** …okay. Okay, see you soon.”

The male imp resentfully dropped a box of stale donut crumbs into the trash bin. “I texted your husband _multiple times_ and he hasn’t sent anything back.”

“He’s okay, he’d call us if there was anything bad happening to him.”

“Okay,” Blitzo huffed, taking out his cell phone. ”I’m just gonna try to contact him one more time.”

He entered Moxxie’s number. _“Hello, this is Moxxie. I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep.“_

“Moxxie, this is Blitzo **… _I KILLED MILLIE!!!”_**

**“No he d-“**

Blitzo shoved Millie away. “Yeah, I was cleaning my gun, and it went off and I shot her! If only you came here sooner, you could have helped me clean it! Oh, it’s _so_ sad, Moxxie! Bring some paper towels! And some garbage bags!”

As he hung up, the shelf above him rustled ominously-something slid forward and hit him square in the head.

**_“OW!_ ** _Fuck, what was that?!?”_

He rubbed the new goose egg on his head, just before Millie added to it with the base of a pencil sharpener. Ears ringing, he bent to pick the junk up-two could play at this game.

His newest blunt weapon, he saw, was going to be a talking toy: one of those wheels you spin to make noises. The dog goes woof, the duck goes quack, the horse goes neigh, etc., etc…

_Wait._

The old thing was hauntingly familiar. He lifted it and cradled it in his hands. Under the dust, there were papers taped over the farm animals’ pictures, all with children’s drawings of faces on them. Millie was yelling something, Loona was yelling back at her, but Blitzo was no longer paying attention to either of them.

“The wheel,” he mouthed. “It’s my wheel.”

His wheel. He hadn’t pulled the string in years.

It had been such a long time ago…


	2. Kids

Quickly, and silently, Blitzo opened the door.

He could hear the TV chattering down the hall. There was no other sound nor no other source of light. Creeping out on his hooves, nerves tensed for any change in the order of the underworld, he made his way through.

The little imp moved with the quickness of a rat, dashing across a bar of blue light. A drunken shout froze him just as he reentered darkness. He was stuck on one hoof, ludicrously poised for wrath from above like Yossarian, when a large form staggered out into the hall.

Dad took no notice, turning left without bothering to look in his son’s direction. Blitzo hoped his sisters had closed the door while he was sneaking away. Taking a quick look, he could see that they had, that they’d been careful. _Whew, thanks._

As the door was reopened, and they began to plead, he skittered into the kitchen, almost on all fours. A bag of nachos had not been put away and had fallen on the floor. Looking inside, he could see just enough left for a meal; with a soft crinkle he hoped no one else could hear, he grabbed up the bag and held it to his chest.

There was another sound, the one he wanted to hear least in Hell.

It was like the sound of a fish hitting water.

It was like the beat of a stick on a drum.

It was like-no, it _was_ -the sound of a hand smacking a face.

Blitzo winced in sympathy. Angry lumbering jarred the floor as the door was slammed back shut. He pinned himself against the wall again, waiting until Dad made the next move. Outside, the train could be heard blowing as it rattled through hell.

Dad didn’t hear or see his son, thanks to that train. He just stumbled back to the television and plopped back down onto his seat.

Blitzo was about to sneak back to the room when he realized he’d taken nothing to drink. He couldn’t very well bring nachos back without some kind of carbonated drink; it just wasn’t done in this house. The train still ruled the neighborhood with its sound, but he didn’t have long.

_Dumbass!_

He turned, and suddenly he was back at the door with three soda cans in his arms, his heart racing. The train’s bellow was fading away.

What had just happened? How the hell did he get them there? He must have done _something-_ didn’t he go back to the kitchen, didn’t he open the fridge? There was no pain besides hunger in him, so he guessed he wasn’t caught when he got the cans.

_It’s best not to spend too much time thinking about this._

The girls flinched as the door was opened once more. One of them had a fresh bruise gracing her cheek.

 _“It’s me! Blitzo!”_ he hissed. If you’re reading this aloud, try to speak in a whispery little voice.

_“Oh, okay.”_

_“C’mon in. C’mon!”_

_“Dinner is served,”_ he whispered, striking a dramatic pose. _“Tonight it’s ranch dressing nachos and off-brand soda on the menu!”_

His sisters, Tilla and Barbi Wire, smiled. _“Ooh, ranch dressing,”_ Barbi teased. “ _Which demon lord’s dumpster did you go sneaking in tonight?”_

“ _Kleon!”_ At this they all struggled to contain their laughter. _“Only the best shit from him!”_

As their brother passed out food and drink to them, he looked closely at Tilla’s bruise. _“Oh. Ooh, that sucks.”_

 _“It won’t show when I’m in makeup,” she told him._ The faces they all kept in jars would hide their wounds.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, savoring the taste and texture like little red Zen monks. As the pain of hunger was replaced with zest, they began to think.

Blitzo cleared his throat. No one seemed to notice, so he tried again. Finally, the girls sighed and met the yellow glow of his gaze. _“What?”_

_“You know how I was playing in the toy box yesterday?”_

_“You mean ‘Blitzo’s Playhouse?’”_ asked Tilla.

 _“I mean the toy box,”_ he said, taking a nacho in his teeth. His voice went from deadpan to a theatrical purr: _“I found something cool there. Then I made it_ better.”

_“Did you fix one that broke?”_

_“No… I made it into something new.”_

_“Cut the theatrical shitfuckery and show us already,”_ whispered Barbie. She was having trouble staying awake.

Blitzo winked at her as he finished his share of the nachos. _“Not yet. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got tired of looking for a way to write how he got the cans so I just had him dissociate. I think it works pretty well for a story that's meant to be a flashback!

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is inspired by the song "Stuck in the Middle With You" from '60s/'70s band Stealer's Wheel.
> 
> Didn't you ever have one of those toys as a kid? They were hilarious.


End file.
